From the Diary of Mrs Harker
by Kryss LaBryn
Summary: I have been drunk with the magic of the night, how could I ever be satisfied with the day again? Oneoff diary entry. Rated K for mild language. Takes place just after the book ends.


_I have been drunk with the magic of the night; how could I ever be satisfied with the day again?_

Written by Kryss LaBryn, after watching 'Dracula: Dead and Loving It', of all things… Of course, I own nothing.

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_From the diary of Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker_2 February

I have started another diary because I have no one left to talk to, no-one left who might understand what it is that I'm feeling. I'm not sure that I understand myself. I hope that the act of writing this will help me to order my thoughts and make sense of things.

It has been three months since that terrible night that He was killed. Jonathan and I are married now. I have not yet told him that I am pregnant. Oh, it is his, of course it is, but as it is he barely leaves me alone. If he knew I was expecting I would not have a moments peace. And right now I want desperately to be alone.

I think the first month was the worst. We were married right away, and so I could not hide from Jonathan the way I would wake in the night weeping. I told him it was nightmares. I hardly ever cry any more. I feel too empty inside.

He believed me when I said that it was just bad memories that would catch me unawares, that would rise up in a moment and overwhelm me so I could hardly breathe for the pain. Well, it was true after all. Jonathan simply misunderstood which memories it was that hurt me so. But what did he expect? How did any of them think I would feel? Poor Lucy dead, murdered in the night, slaughtered like livestock, and He, the one I loved, the one I gave my heart and my soul to, torn from me and destroyed like some rabid animal! Of course I wept… They think that if they pretend that nothing ever happened, that she is not dead, just moved away, that He had never come here, then it will be so. They expect me to sing and dance and act the happy newly-wed..!

Well, to be honest, I thought I _would_ forget when we were married. Well, not forget, of course, never forget, but that it all just… wouldn't matter anymore. But then Jonathan, dear sweet Jonathan…

Dear and sweet and kind – I have no doubt he loves me absolutely; he's killed for me, risked his own life for me – but…I thought, He had made me think, that there was always such passion between lovers. I assumed that even though I saw no signs of such passion in Jonathan, that he was holding back for my sake, that once we were married he would love me as fiercely as another once did. Ever the proper Englishman, our Jonathan. Ever the man of our times. Yes, he's kind, and considerate of my needs, or what he believes are my needs… Always the dutiful husband… He comes to me once a week, regular as clockwork, unless I tell him that I am 'indisposed' at the time. He believes he's doing his duty, and he is kind and gentle, I suppose, but, well, he is certainly not what Lucy and I expected in a marriage bed! He makes love like a lawyer's clerk, like he is tallying the night's sums. And I dare not refuse his advances, lest he bring Dr. Seward around again to try to determine what's upsetting me. He'll only fuss and hover about me until I feel I should scream or go mad. But I never do. At least, I haven't… yet… Which is why I have yet to tell him about the pregnancy. But I won't be able to hide it much longer. Already my dresses all seem too tight. I don't think it will be much longer before he notices too. And then we will have an endless stream of visitors –Dear Lord, what if he brings Van Helsing back? I do not believe I could stand the sight of that murdering basd! All my unhappiness is due to him, poor Lucy's death… _He_ had never harmed us; either of us! He offered us our dreams made reality! I shall never forget the night he held me in his arms as we soared across the stars… Everything painful was done to us by that madman! He knew the Host would scar me, would burn me so deeply that it seemed the fire of it would never be quenched. And yet he pressed it to my face simply to make a point! He made the point with poor Lucy by simply holding up a crucifix, but me he had to maim. If it had been a red-hot poker it could not have hurt more, and all to impress those incredulous gentlemen who would never have allowed him to harm a hair on my head if he had not told them that I was 'cursed'… Yes, cursed, Van Helsing, but not by God, of that I am sure now, but by murdering animals like yourself! Did you not once say that it was the faith one had in God that made the undead quail away from the cross, not the cross itself? How could a God that I've always believed to be compassionate allow any creature to walk His green earth when He has the power to burn them where they stand? He does not hate the wolves and bats, or other creatures of the night. No, Van Helsing, it was your belief in our foulness that burned us, that persuaded others to kill us, not God. If not for you Lucy would still be alive, and I'd be happy…To this day I cannot bear to look at crucifixes and the blind hatred they stand for…

He once called himself the king of his kind, as did V.H… That must mean there are more like him. Sometimes, deep in the night when I cannot sleep, I dream of traveling back to His land, and seeking out others of his kind, others like I once was… There are so many books about them, there must be more in this world than just He and his three wives… More deaths to lay at V.H.'s feet. Sometimes I'd dream that I was whole again, and powerful, and that I would hunt him down and tear his throat out for what he's done. And sometimes I'd dream that I was back in my own bed, and there would be a tap at the window, and He would be there. He'd take my hand, and kiss me, and pull me up to the window ledge beside him, and we'd fly out into the moonlight together, hair and nightgown and cloak streaming together, and nothing of this world, not even gravity, could ever hold me back again.

I don't dream anymore. I had Dr. Seward prescribe me laudanum 'for the nightmares'. I couldn't bear another night of waking from that dream to this cold reality. Another reason to hide the pregnancy, I suppose. I doubt he would let me take it anymore.

Jonathan is stirring. I must go –


End file.
